


The Lord's Piece

by ImhereImQuire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Broken Bones, Gang Rape, Homophobia, Humiliation, M/M, Urination, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 20:04:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImhereImQuire/pseuds/ImhereImQuire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satin is used to men on the wall pushing their luck with him, and mostly he just laughs it off. Not everyone takes it well, and one man gets his mates involved in teaching him a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lord's Piece

He could remember so clearly the exchange that had begun his ordeal, when he went to leave the armoury with Jon's repaired shoulder plates and ran into Grenald and his friends.   
  
"Saaatin" he had drawn the word out so mockingly. "On our way back to Lord Snow, are we, sweetheart?". The odds were six to one, and every one of them had been bigger than him so he had tried silence, keeping his eyes forward, his head slightly down and attempting to slip past him without saying anything to provoke him. "Where're you going, Satin? Not leaving, are you? Not when we've come all the way down here to find you..." and that was the moment that he knew that he was really in trouble, and sought to run, only to have his way blocked by the two men who had been resting either side of the doors, experienced guardsmen both.   
  
"I'm just going to go now... and say nothing about this to anyone. Not even the lord commander. " he said with a high, nervous laugh and that was the point where Grenald had come up behind him and brought his fist down on the back of his skull, a flash of pain and fogginess which left him down upon the floor before he'd even registered falling, Jon's shoulder plates crushed beneath him. "Still laughing, boy-whore? Still fucking laughing are you?".   
  
Satin had made to stay down then, and a for a moment he'd thought that he might have gotten away with only the kicks directed at his back and ribs, but then Grenald had ripped him up by his hair onto his knees. "You've stopped laughing now, haven't you, bitch? You're not so cocky now we've got you on your own".   
  
Satin would have liked to be able to say that he was one of those, bold, brave, defiant sorts, that he'd pointed out that Grenald was only cocky with six of his friends to back him up, but he was not inclined toward heroics. "No...no I'm not. You've proved your point. Can I go now, please?" he had asked meekly, hoping that Grenald would consider the slight to his honour answered and let this be the end of it. It seemed to have the intended effect, the man's mates were laughing at him, calling him craven, and bitch and gelding, sniggering at his apparent cowardice, made merry by their sense of power. They were convinced that they had won, and Satin was happy to let them have their victory if it meant he could leave.   
  
"You look so pretty on your knees like that though, don't you?" Grenald asked, to muttered assent of the others.  "Proper little maid..." someone behind him laughed.

"Maid? Whore, ha!" another replied.

"Oh aye, he used to be one of those boy whores, that's what he got sent for, blackmailing rich buggers". Satin's chewed his lip, saying nothing, jaw clenching when Grenald loomed over him further.

"The little bitch thinks he's too good for the likes of us...look at his face. He's gotten too used to the Commander's cock, thinks he's a fucking lady now, or some bollocks... well, sweetheart, men follow me too, how'd you like that? You should have thought about that before you started giving me lip. What did you say to me, when you had that little knife of yours out, threatening to cut me.... "  
  
Satin's eyes widened, and he looked really afraid now, as a heavy hand ripped his dagger away, at the mention of it and any hope of escape went with it. "I don't remember...." he said nervously. The heavy set man in front of him narrowed his eyes -blue, so fucking pale he might have been a wight- and then hit him again along the side of his face, leaving his ear ringing from the force of the blow, and sending him sprawling sideways in a heap.  
  
"You said that I couldn't afford you, didn't you, smart arse?" another kick to the ribs which had Satin curling in on himself and crying out into his arms.  He should have known that this would not have been an end to it, he thought to himself, that a man like Grenald was not going to take kindly to having his balls threatened by a whore who had rejected him. "Do you want to rethink that?" another kick, not Grenald, someone else, someone unseen, and he felt as though he might vomit from the impact of the boot that came up into his stomach. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It was nothing personal, I swear, I've just left all that behind me. Please, just let me go now... I've learnt my lesson, alright?" he gasped out, hardly able to get a breath. There was no shame in acknowledging that the odds were not in his favour and behaving accordingly, he told himself. No shame, just common sense in surviving, no matter how much they laughed and mocked him overhead.  
  
It wasn't enough though, and when he pushed himself up on his hands he found himself at eye level with Grenald's cock it was clear, even before he spoke what was required. "You're not laughing now, are you, bitch boy? Go on then, make it up to me, there's a good whore. You know what to do. Show us how sorry you are, and if you fucking dare lay your teeth in I will stick my sword up your arse, point first, and see how you laugh when I twist it" he growled. Satin said nothing to this, but if he had then it would have been drowned out by the laughter of the men towering over him, laughter which became all the more boisterous when he lowered his eyes, opened his mouth and took the other's prick into it, head bobbing in single minded determination to have an end to it. His tormentors were all entertained by this, the way he set to his sucking without a word of pride or protest,

"Look at that... could suck a melon through a piece of straw"...

"Little bastard's done that before, ha!"...

"You just know that Snow's been ramming that.." 

"At both ends..." came a reply and they all laughed again as one of the men, who had been quiet up until this point suddenly interjected "Snow and half of the fucking reach, I heard!"  
  
He'd thought to get Grenald off as soon as quick as he could, his mouth working quickly in his desparation to get out of there, to nurse his wounds and avoid anything worse, but that idea was clearly too much to resist. "Fuck this... Get him over then... I ain't Lord fucking Bastard, I know how to share, and you'll all get your turn, but I'm sticking it in first" their leader announced, and horrified as the boy was he could not claim to be surprised. It was his refusal to sit on the end of Grenald's prick which had started his grudge against him, after all.  
  
His head was tugged back roughly, and when two of them got close and made to grab his shoulders there was a sickening crunch that he felt rather heard. Satin yelped, but they didn't even seem to notice that his fingers were stuck beneath one's boot, and his cries turned to a louder scream when he was yanked up. Broken. They were broken, they must have been, he could tell, instinctively cradling his hand to his body as he was dragged across to the anvil and flung over it, causing him to scream anew as they were crushed beneath both his own weight and the force of the hands holding him down.   
  
"Will somebody shut him the fuck up?" someone demanded gruffly, and by the time that he had managed to squirm his arm from beneath him there was a second cock out, and his mouth was forced around it, a fist tangled in his hair as he was half choked, jaw stretched wide around a thickness which in other circumstances might have been impressive, but now was simply frightening. He was terrified by this point, his broken fingers dangling weakly against the steel as the foul tasting cock was jammed deep into his throat. The rankness upon his tongue was the last thing on his mind though, as his trousers had been ripped down to expose his arse.   
  
"No lower than that, keep his rod covered and he'd pass for a girl" someone suggested, to the agreement of the others. " Pah! That limp little thing's scarce enough to call a manhood" came the boom of the one with the thickest beard, causing more laughter. "Not against yours it ain't... skinny little bastard is going to be walking like he's rode Dorne to the wall". "Been rode, more like".   
  
They weren't even talking to him anymore, insults becoming banter between comrades, while he was divided up like the spoils of war, and Satin was holding back tears as a heavy body pressed against him, the too familiar feeling of a hard cock poked between his spread cheeks. He knew enough to know that this would hurt him; whore he might have been once, but it had been too long and the lack of grease or tenderness, or even so much as a flagon of ale would mean he would be left bloody. Knowledge made it no easier, and the spit coating Grenald's cock did nothing to help it slide in. No, there was nothing but force, and even his rapist -first rapist, he thought grimly, for he had resigned himself to his fate with the detached  practicality which had served him so often as a child- was cursing the friction, while Satin was left screaming, the sound muffled and unnatural around the width of the shaft which plugged his throat.  
  
His tears streaked his cheeks freely enough as he was roughly plowed and he did nothing to stay their flow. The men stood around him were too distracted by their bet as to which of his holes would be going spare first to mock him for it, and it was not their words he feared, no matter how crudely they spoke. He was in agony, torn in ways he hadn't known since his boyhood, though there was no poppy's milk to take the pain, and he had no choice but to suffer through it.  
  
Grenald grunted and fell heavy upon him after minutes which felt like hours, complaining about the mess of fluids upon his cock when he straightened up, leaving him exposed to the air.  "Let the whore clean it off" came the gruff chuckle from the man using his mouth "Swap ends and I'll shoot my load up in his bowels". The boy had thought himself resigned to his fate but the prospect of having a thing that wide buggering his bleeding arse a fresh terror he was eager to avoid. Survival instinct took over, his hands came up to the man's hips and pulled him in, sucking him hard and fast, trying to bargain with his mouth, much to the amusement of the man's friends.   
  
"Little bastard's loving it, look at that!" cackled the man who stood with his back against the door, barring the armoury.

"Fucking hell, if I'd met a wench who could suck like that then I'd have married her..." laughed the tall, scrawny one at his side. "And pimped her out!"   
  
The thick bearded man loosened his grip upon the pretty curls in his gasp when it emerged he was getting a proper suck, and seemed for a moment to be content to stay where he was but then another man made to cover the boy and he yanked himself away. "Fuck you- I called that arse! You heard me, Barlon" he growled, and made his way around the forge.   
  
It was hopeless but fear made him stupid and Satin tried to rise from the anvil, only to be dropped by an elbow upon the kidneys which made him retch. "Careful, don't want that on your cock, Grenald" came an amused warning, though the leader was deaf to it. "Get your mouth on that.. You're going to be sucking us all clean afterward... let Snow get a mouthful of that off your lips." he smirked as he forced down the boy's head. His cock tasted of salt and copper, and the tang of blood thick was thick in Satin's mouth when the monstrous cock he had sought to spare himself was unceremoniously rammed into his arse in a single brutal thrust. The youth sobbed anew, hurt layered upon hurt. Both men were replaced quickly enough as Grenald stepped back to Barlon, and the bearded man relieved the man watching th­­­­e door.   
  
The man was tall enough that he had to kneel to get his cock at a height to fuck him, and though he was not a brawny man he pressed his weight hard upon the boy's back hard, and he could take no more than shallow breaths around the cock within his mouth, which he had almost forgotten occupied as he had been with the pain of his  third buggering. It was a different sort of hurt now, a deeper ache rather than the tearing of his earlier violation, his channel seed slicked and stretched, but so worn out that every stroke felt like it was being hammered upon bruises. It was far from over for him though, for the moment that the tall man had been replaced there was another in his stead. And another. And another, and Satin had long lost track of which of them had their cocks in his dribbling holes, and was only dully aware that they had sated themselves on him when the sticky spray across his arse and thighs was added to by a shower of piss, soaking through his shirt and streaking his hair. Wearily he looked up at Grenald, saying nothing as a rivulet of gold ran from his curls to cut across his cheek. Was that really neccessary, he thought to himself dully. "You're not laughing at me now, are you, whore?" he asked with a rasping laugh and Satin just stared at him with dead eyes, and after a long moment shook his head ever so slightly. "You fell." he smirked. "Carrying a chamberpot" he added, looking down with disgust at the sodden, broken boy beneath him. "Make sure you give Snow a kiss from me". And then Satin was alone.  
  
He managed to get himself off the anvil, but no further, curling in on himself against the side of the iron. He was cold, and could feel the chill of the metal through his soaked shirt, but he didn't register it, not really. Not that, nor anything else as he stared out at nothing, hugging his knees and rocking slowly.   
  
The armourer said that he had only been gone from the forge for two hours, two and a half at most, but there was no measuring time like that, and the boy had simply sat there, shivering and sobbing until he was found. One cheek was mottled with bruising, dark across one eye, with another a line of bruising across his stomach where it had been rammed upon the edge of the anvil. His ribs were a mass of purple and had clearly been cracked more than once. The smallest two fingers upon his left hand were broken, his lip was split and he was bleeding more heavily even than he had as a child. He wouldn't have the attention of a maester though, no matter how much he was coaxed, or reassured. "I've seen it all before, lad" the man had tried to tell him, but Satin had shook his h­­ead. "So have I" he replied dully, the only words he would say to anyone before crawling into his bed in his stinking, sodden clothes.   
  
Jon stayed with him, occasionally trying to draw him into speaking of what had happened, and promising him justice as he busied himself with his papers, but there was nothing from Satin until he retired to bed. "Can I come in with you?" the older boy had asked quietly, after a while, but Jon remembered too well what had happened the last time, and they were not in the deepest of winter now, and perhaps the other lad's state horrified him more than he was willing to admit. "Just... Just stay in your own bed tonight, Satin. That's a good lad" he said awkwardly, and the injured boy had pulled his furs above his head and asked no more.


End file.
